discussions late at night

its after having a cigarette and dialling her number that my thoughts are instantly re-arranged in the order i want them presented. the truth is that i'm going to finally come clean about sleeping with her boyfriend. i am going to tell her everything, and i know she is going to demand that i tell her all the grimy details, and i'm prepared to do that, to tell her everything so i dial her number and wait for her to pick up. things are running through my mind, my imagination has already created several ways in which she may react, and i have come to the conclusion that i can cope with all of them. I just must remeber to act in an adult way and tell her my reasoning behind my behavior.
'Hi, how's it going?" she has picked up and already i feel uncomfortable considering im going to have to be the one who brings up the subjkect of the conversation.
'oh you know, just wasting time. The usual really. How are you?'
'fine. i was about to settle down to do some work, but i'm not in the mood in any way shape or form. how was the party the other night?'
'yeah it was good, i stayed till the early hours of the morning, got a cab home then spent the rest of sunday attempting to do work. By attempting i mean that i ate the entire contents of my cupboard and watched sunday television which is absolutley abominal'
'oh i actually quite enjoy it. The only reason i dont watch it more often is because its such a time waster, and i just dont seem to have the time to waste anymore. It's annoying the way that has happened isn't it?'
'YES, very. i hardly hae time for myself, let alone old friends.'
'i agree one hundred percent. at least it wont last much longer, after i finish this year it will be over. university will be done with and i will enter a fast paced world of reality. I just cannot wait. anyway did you want to discuss what the plans are for friday? i have a lot of work to do and cant chat, plus Charles is coming over and i want to surprise him tonight.'
'how are things with charles?' Finally i had my cue, i could tell her now, start crying and begin confessing, tell her how sorry i am that i slept with him, how it wasn't my fault (well not entirely true) and how i was prepared to do everything to make up. He was a stupid fool anyhow and she could do better. Sureley this would make her see it clearly.
'things are going well. very well actually. we had such a wonderful night last night, i really feel that we're opening up again, and you know how i got suspicious a while. Well i think he is actually being honest with me now, which is so refreshing. i don't know if i could hvae managed him if his behaiour hadn't changed, but the old charles is back. i'm thinking of initing him out with us, do you think the rest of them will mind?'
'i don't know...' oh no, that was a bad start, it's always bad to let them introduce the subject. i'm going to have to drop the subject. 'anyway look i have to go, i will ring you later. take care.' so i put the phone down. perhaps its better if i keep it to myself that i slept with her boyfriend. It's for her own god anyway.x

addicted

an obsession with her drives me,
this obsession makes me live,
this wakes me up each morning
although suffering i weep
and the pain weighs more than words
and the want is always there,
although time is passing by
it's her that i constantly seek.
she is there throughout my dreams
moments when i sit and sigh
and the world is constantly changing
no one ever asking why.
simplicity no longer simple
but difficult to maintain,
as thoughts are jumbbled
by memories that evaporate
discussions that allude
to things gone by-gone
dissapeared into the darkness
that is the void whole that is my mind.
My addiction asks for her,
seeks her everywhere in sight,
seeks comforts in her scent
reconstructs her touch, her feel
and the way i felt.
the want is great, the mind is weak,
and yet upon arrival it is not her i want to meet
it is the memory of her, lost, created, forgotten.
An obsession, forgotten.
It's the feeling i seek.
and this may be meek
but a full confession
it wasn't her i loved-it was the addiction.
It is me i want back.
it is me that is lost.
evaporated like a memory, or a stain in the water.

temporary colorblindness

the inneitablity of rain always somehow manages to produce gray emotions. Boredom, a lack of light, a permanent downpour and the coldness that envelops london. Somehow the sadness of the surroundings manages to transport itself into the many habitants of the city....this however is not the case in my instance. The permanent lack of colour within november has provoked a colourblindness and an acuteness of the senses which creates a simplistic view of the surroundings. Innevitable questions transport themselves within me as i travel, and it is mostly during the daily commute that i find myself thinking oer matters such as these. The perception of colour may vary from indiidual to individual. what i have been taught is green may in fact be blue to someone elses eyes, however both me and the someone else are totally unaware of our perceptions of the colour green in this instance and how they differ, if indeed they differ for both of us. Colourblindness therefore removes the difficulty implimented by the different perceptions that we both have of a certain colour. Yet awareness of a certain colour is only due to the education that we hae receied, because society has told us that the colour is called green.....therefore innevitably society has achieved in telling us what to see, what to perceive.

Yet appreciation of a colour can never be taught. And the freedom of individuality is trully expressed, although unconsciously, through our eyes. If what we see is trully different than to what the next person sees then that marks as as individuals and the freedom to do that can never be taken away. Unless ofcourse colourblindness falls upon us, in which case complete colourblindness is the removal of individuality. A simplistic view of the world and our surroundings, everything permanently viewed as an antique photograph. Does simplictiy aid in the understanding of the world, or does it only simplify a complex situation to a black and white view?

I am filled with thoughts regarding colour. Such a beautiful concept yet so untangible, so untouchable it makes it hard to understand how it exists. Existance and life are other subjects that fascinate me.

Life otherwise has been filled with excitement. The remopval of one coloured substance from my daily existance, namely heroin, has improved my perception. My moods are not swinging anymore in a permanent wind that is life. i have come to the realisation that i have become a thinker. My thoughts no longer feel frozen, they can roam and roam in my head, be censored and manipulated, moulded and changed by perception and renewal of ideas. It is new experiences, and it feels like my existance is something more than simply an existance, i am living again! As cringe as the concept sounds, it is ultimatley true.

Oer and out for today....

the continuity of imagination

It is a wonderous experience when i read a book and it sparks within me the want to write. The need to document things down ad to create. The feeling never lasts anymore.currently i feel im working too hard, i seem to be constantly seeking new knoledge. someone once described the brain as a sponge, ever filling itself up with information, the flaws are clear..what happens when this sponge gets saturated..does that mean that one can become so informed that no more information can be aquired...that a rather horrible thought that i would not like to consider currently.back to the writing, i want to do it i'm just scared that i will leave things out, will relive the experience and no be able to re-tell it quite in the same way that i imagine it. Thats the problem with writing, it innevitably fails short of the writer, it lets him down. there is only so much that words can express, and yet so many choices of words. November dosent seem to be enveloping itself with the usual sadness. it wasnt love. the south african crush wasnt love, it was simply a phase, a passing obsession. i am grateful however, one needs constant inspiration and change, new experiences and new emotions in order to protect the continuity of imagination. im rambing..i have too many ideas wondering through my head...i shall begin writing my book....this weekend....and continue to keep a rambled account of the dreary existance that i seem to be enduring.

boredom in the city that never sleeps....

went out last night...the usual array of drinking drugs, music partying and socialising. it was nice don't get me wrong. I felt i sort of had to go out, especially after such a week! My best friend/sexual interest/ lover/ fellow drug taker came back from south africa. Only for the week. It was amazing. Sure a lot of money was spent, a lot of time wasted as i didnt attent college, and im back on the slippery slope that heroin encourages you to slide upon.

I was going to stop, but he called me, and the sound of his voice was enough to get me to call the dealer. Why? i dont know, i am aware of how stupid it is, i am aware of how we could have had a week with less drama had the heroin not been involved.

he told me he loved me, i told it back. I think it needed to be heard because when he left before neither of us said anything. the thing is that after last night i dont know if i will be able to get in touch again. My phone was stolen, his number lost, evaporated like a droplet of water off a leaf, and no one seems to have it. Even if they hvae it, perhaps its best to keep us appart as we would innevitably end up in a whirlwind of our own distruction.

I slept with an old fling as well. It was only to get myself to forget about the south africa lover....and god im going to miss him so much.

I guess the key is to keep busy, i need to stop the drugs, i really do. My best friend is going to join me in the struggle to stay clean. its going to be difficult, but i guess thats always the case.

The parents dont know about the relapse, about the drug taking. I dont want them to get hurt again. Perhaps i cant be bothered with the hassle of it all. Anyway, its the beginning of a new week tomorrow and im going to document every single day of it....

Dexy xx

the innevitability of repetition....

it is innevitable not getting into a routine.... early morning wake up...rain pattering on my windows...i would rather stay in bed but i know i cant. Legs are in pain, head is spinning, i have a cigarette and wait for the water from the shower to heat up. Get in, feel naked and exposed but enjoy washing with such hot water....still not fully awake at this point...get out of the shower and jump into bed after enveloping a dressing gown around me. i sit in bed and attempt getting dressed with the covers over me...then its the same old journey. Rush out the house, forget keys, phone, book or similar item..have to turn back..run to the train station...get there early thus have a cigarette...or get there just in time and have to jump on the train....

same routine, same rush...i contemplated this as i put my music up and stood still for a minute. a whole minute....in this minute people are being born, others dying, some sleeping, others working, the endless possibilities are amazing and yet uncomprehendable...i simply watch, the rush.....the crowds at victoria station. They vaguely remind me of a poem i once read...well a couple of poems. Dante's inferno where he describes hell....people wandering around, avoiding each other, each person so removed from anyone else..its amazing we make contact when we are so removed and self involved, in a rush, busy and unaware of each other. Sometimes i wonder what it would be like to hear everyone thoughts...half of them i wouldnt be able to grasp, purely because of the complicated nature of it!!!!

anyway..im tired.....shall continue preaching tomorrow..
xx

perception...

If for example you think of a word...any word.....take love....an emotion. yet my idea of love is different from anyone elses idea..yet the word remains the same. when i think of love, i think of my own love affair...or what i would like to call a love affair. i think of the emotions that i felt towards my best friend as i lay on top of him stroking his chest. i think of my mother and of a dog i once had. I think of the many tears that i have cried for being in love. Yet i maintain to think that i have never been in love....and how am i to comprehend what someone with a broken heart is talking about when they describe to me their emotions..and how they describe love!!

This perception...or understanding of what someone has said can never be completly comprehended....when i say something, no one is going to understand the extent to what i mean...especially when concentrating with emotions.....and yet through communication, through words and language, i can attempt to make a connection, to achieve the impossible and let someone see the inside of my mind...the inner thoughts and whirlwind that goes on....

It's late tonight and im starting to get deep thoughts. Besides its been a heavy weekend....im going to retire to bed....!